


Signals

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: BrainDead (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, F/M, Family Dinner, Happy Ending, Protective Siblings, Relationship Reveal, Secret Relationship, eyebrow lice???, germaine is not friendly, well not for long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 08:04:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11436636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: How Luke finds out about his sister's new boyfriend.Working Title: The Eyebrow Lice Fic





	Signals

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super late publishing, but this is circa September, right around the time the finale aired, and set not too long after that. It's 2500 words-ish of Healy family fluff, really.

“Laurel? You OK?” Luke’s forehead wrinkles as he cocks his head toward his sister.

“Hmm? Oh—yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Laurel flicks her pinky across her eyebrow and looks back at Luke as Gareth mirror her gesture and disappears around the corner.

“You’ve done that six times since we started talking.”

“Done what?”

“Whatever thing you keep doing to your eyebrow. Like poking it or something. You’re sure you don’t have eyebrow lice or something?” Luke mimics Laurel’s action but bigger, almost knocking a coffee mug off the corner of Laurel’s desk.

“Eyebrow lice?” Laurel furrows her brow, looking at Luke like he’s insane.

“You realize that three months ago you came to me about bugs that were eating people’s brains?”

“I was right.”

“But that sounds way crazier than this, and you’re looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.” Laurel opens her mouth to answer, but Luke lifts a hand to stop her. “Bad word choice, I know. But still,”

“ _Eyebrow lice_?”

“Why else would you be scratching your eyebrow? I’m open to better answers.”

Laurel rolls her eyes and very deliberately reaches up to flick her eyebrow as she turns on her heel and walks out.

* * *

“I think we might be found out.” Laurel drums her fingers against Gareth’s bare chest and draws her bottom lip between her teeth.

“By …?” Gareth lifts an eyebrow, prompting Laurel to elaborate.

“Luke.” Laurel props her chin on Gareth’s torso and looks up at him.

“How’d he catch on? We didn’t even have lunch together today.”

(Gareth wasn’t happy with Red for scheduling a committee meeting over lunch. Since the infection, Red isn’t allowed to go to meetings without his Chief of Staff for fear that he’ll go too far off book without anyone to reel him back in. Of course, he couldn’t tell Red that he had lunch plans without telling him what those plans were, and he and Laurel were waiting for the right moment to go public.)

“He noticed our signal.” Laurel rolls over and curls in underneath Gareth’s arm.

“When?”

“When you were pacing back and forth outside our offices.”

“I was not _pacing_ , I was on the phone. It’s a totally normal reaction.”

“Sure.” Gareth can tell she doesn’t believe him. “Anyway, you kept walking by and we’d signal each other and Luke asked me why I kept scratching my eyebrow. Gareth, he asked me if I had _eyebrow lice_.”

“Eyebr—“ Laurel interrupts before Gareth can finish his sentence.

“I know. But yeah, he knows something is up.”

“What’d you tell him?” Gareth’s fingers absently trace spirals on Laurel’s shoulder in an attempt to mask his concern. Concern for what, he’s not sure. Did he want her to tell Luke the truth or did he want to preserve the secrecy of their relationship? The last few months have been wonderful, and Gareth wouldn’t trade their little bubble of privacy for the world; they’ve had enough hoops to jump through without the opinions of well-meaning friends and loved ones.

“That I don’t have eyebrow lice.” When Gareth lifts an eyebrow, Laurel sighs and continues. “I didn’t tell him. But I didn’t say we weren’t together. I’m pretty sure he knows.”

Gareth purses his lips and lets out a deep breath. “OK. OK. We were going to tell people eventually, right? Maybe it’s time to start doing that.”

“Like this?”

“Do we have a choice?” He tucks his chin down to press a kiss against the top of Laurel’s head.

“No? I guess not. Why don’t we have him and Germaine over for dinner this weekend? I’ll cook something nice—“

“Quesadillas? You know, Laurel, I can cook too. I’ve done pretty well with the bachelor life.”

“Are you saying you don’t like my quesadillas?” There’s no malice in Laurel’s voice. “Fine, then. You can cook. Anyway, we’ll have them over and break the news after Luke’s had a couple of glasses of wine.”

“You’re brother’s a vino?”

“My brother is an ‘anything-with-alcohol-in-it-so-I-can-survive-this-godawful-political-fundrasier-o’. Self-described.”

“OK,” Gareth chuckles lightly, before sobering up again. “Hey, he’s not gonna hate me or anything, right?”

“No more than he hates most republicans. Probably less, if you can prove to him that you’re capable of feelings and you’re not going to hurt me. By the way, I should probably tell you about what Luke did when my prom date stood me up senior year.”

“What’d he do …?” Hesitance laces Gareth’s tone, as he starts to worry about what Luke could do to him.

“So Luke found me on the front porch, in my prom dress, sobbing. Whole nine yards, it was _awful_. And he drove to the guy’s house. Walked up, rang the doorbell, shook his dad’s hand. I stayed in the car so I don’t know what he said, but they chatted for a couple minutes and Dad went back inside. When Jason came out, Luke dragged him by the hoodie strings out to the lawn and started wrestling with him.”

“Who won?”

“Luke, obviously. Jason wouldn’t even look at me on Monday, but it was totally worth it to see his dad watching his son get pinned by Luke.” Laurel sighs wistfully. “But as long as you don’t ditch me at tax prom next year, it should be fine. Friday or Saturday night to have them over?”

“Friday? Then we can spend Saturday and Sunday together, instead of having to get ready for family dinner?”

“Good point. I’ll text Luke.” Laurel rolls over for her phone, curling back against Gareth once she’s retrieved it from the bedside table. She unlocks it and taps rapidly at the screen, before locking it again and tilting her head up to kiss Gareth’s jaw.

Ever one to take hints (especially when it comes to kissing pretty girls), Gareth turns his head and they kiss lazily until Laurel’s phone buzzes.

“Mmm-“ Laurel pulls away and looks at the screen. “Luke says they’re free Friday night. And he wants to know what the occasion is. Should I tell him?”

“Hmm …” Gareth pauses before he answers, thinking carefully. “What if – and stop me if this is an awful idea – but what if we didn’t actually tell them? Like if we just acted like a couple all night and waited for Luke or Germaine to say something?”

“OK, but,” Laurel slides her hand up Gareth’s chest to tap out a rhythm against his collarbone. “If we do this, we can’t make out in front of them or anything. Nothing too obvious.”

“Of course not. And I hate to break it to you, hon, but I wouldn’t make out with you with Luke sitting right there. Especially not after what you told me about Jackson.”

“Jason. But good. What did you have in mind?”

“I dunno, like pet names, holding hands, maybe cuddling on the couch?”

“I like all of these things, snookums.” Laurel pops a finger against the end of Gareth’s nose, laughing as she speaks.

“Good to know, sweet lips.” Gareth drops into what is presumably supposed to be an Italian accent; Laurel, thinking it sounds vaguely mobster-like, swats at his chest and laughs.

“Ugh, no! No more accents! Not until you get good at them!”

“Are you saying that wasn’t a good German accent?” He feigns offense.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m—wait, German? Babe, that sounded way more Italian. Which isn’t saying much, but it’s a good thing I’m in this for more than your impressions.”

"Luke, why do we have to do this?” Germiane rolls her eyes as Luke presses the elevator buttons.

"Because Laurel is my sister and she invited us to dinner.”

“You didn’t have to say yes. You see her at work all the time.”

“Which is why it’ll be nice to have dinner; no politics allowed.” The elevator doors slide open and Luke leads Germaine down the hall, pulling Laurel into a hug when she opens the door. “Hey, sis. What’s going on?”

“Same old, same old. My boss is a hard-ass.” Laurel shoves affectionately at Luke’s shoulder. “You know the routine. Hi, Germaine. Come on in, guys. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Good, because I have been looking forward to your quesadillas all day.”

“Actually, we aren’t having quesadillas.” Laurel’s tone is a touch defensive, even though she knows Luke didn’t mean anything by his comment.

“Oh? You’ve expanded your repertoire then?”

“No, I’m not cooking. That’s actually why we wanted to have you over.”

“We?” Luke’s brow furrows, but before Laurel can elaborate, a muffled voice calls her into the kitchen. She excuses herself and leaves the room. As soon as she’s gone, Luke looks at Germaine and asks again. “We?”

“I don’t know.” Germaine shrugs and picks at her nails.

“’That’s why _we_ wanted to have you over’? Who’s we?”

“Does she have a boyfriend?” Anyone listening would be able to tell that Germaine couldn’t possibly care less about any of this, but Luke is so far inside his own head trying to solve the mystery of “we” that he doesn’t notice when Gareth pops his head around the doorframe and announces that dinner is ready. 

“OK.” Luke stands up and walks toward the kitchen. “How you doing, Gareth?”

“Very well, thanks.” Gareth smirks, amused by Luke’s obliviousness. It’s easy to pinpoint the exact moment Luke puts the puzzle together, forcing Gareth to cough suddenly in a weak attempt to cover a laugh.

“Gareth?”

“Hey.”

“Gareth.”

“Luke, play nice.” Laurel interjects as they take their seats, Gareth setting a platter of thick roast beef slices in the middle of the table.

“I’m playing nice. How am I not playing nice?”

 “Consider it more of a general warning. Should we talk about this?”

“Please.” Luke reaches for Germaine’s hand, but the one closest to him is already wrapped around the stem of a wine glass so he settles for resting it awkwardly on the table beside her plate. “Let’s talk about this.”

“OK. I don’t think introductions are in order, given that you’ve already met.” Laurel sets her own wine glass down and slips her hand into Gareth’s. “Luke, you’ve got a comment. I can tell. Go ahead.”

“The _Chief of Staff_? Laurel, you do know who his boss is, right?”

“I do, but that doesn’t matter any more than taking your coffee with cream or milk.”

“I answer to Red, Laurel answers to you, but we both have lives outside the office.” Gareth jumps in to rescue Laurel, who has clearly realized that her metaphor didn’t land as well as she’d hoped. “Lives we’re choosing to spend together.” He looks at Laurel and breaks into a wide grin that she returns with ease.

“How long?”

“As long as she’ll have me.” Gareth looks away from Laurel, looking Luke in the eye as he responds.

“No, how long has it been going on?” Laurel looks from Gareth to Luke before she answers .

“About three months.”

“ _Three months_?”

“Give or take.”

“You’ve been dating Red Wheatus’ Chief of Staff for three months and it never once occurred to you that this might be a relationship worth disclosing?’

“All due respect, Senator,” Gareth narrows his eyes slightly. “Capitol employees aren’t required to disclose interoffice relationships, only intraoffice. I trust that you know the difference.”

“I do. However, while you may not have _had_ to disclose, that doesn’t mean you couldn’t.”

“Luke, Gareth and I wanted to make sure we knew exactly what we were disclosing before we told anyone anything. Can you understand that?”

“You needed three months to figure it out?”

“Yes. Our relationship hasn’t impacted either of our jobs, and we’re hoping that we can count on your discretion until Gareth and I decide to tell everyone else.”

“Of course, Laurel.” Luke instantly softens when he realizes that he wasn’t the only one out of the loop; rather, he’s one of the first people _in_ the loop. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Luke, I’m an adult. You can’t shield me from the world, not anymore. Sometimes the world hurts, but I have every faith that Gareth won’t.” Laurel squeezes Gareth’s hand gently as he presses his lips against her knuckles. Gareth murmurs her name into the back of her hand, a reminder to not let Luke get under her skin, to keep her cool.  “The roast is excellent, Gare.” It’s an obvious diversion, something the entire table picks up on.

The meal ends uneventfully, with discussion of Laurel’s documentary work and (exclusively non-political) current events. When Laurel starts clearing the table, Gareth and Luke move into the living room, sitting on the sofa.

“Gareth.” Luke isn’t being menacing, but he’s not excessively friendly either. Gareth gets the impression that he’d be backed against the wall, if not for the chance of Laurel coming back. “What are your intentions toward my little sister?”

“I think that’s something Laurel and I need to discuss before I give you an answer, but I can tell you that I’m here as long as she wants me, however she’ll have me.”

Luke stares at Gareth for a few long seconds before nodding sharply once.

“Good answer. Glad to have you around, Ritter, but I’m on Laurel’s side if it comes to that.

“No offense, Luke, but I’d pick your sister over you too.” Luke chuckles as Laurel comes in from the kitchen. She settles in next to Gareth, who wraps an arm around her shoulders.

It’s not long after Laurel rejoins the group that Germaine looks pointedly at her phone.

“Luke, it’s getting late. We should go.” When they get to the door, Luke pulls Laurel into a hug and kisses the top of her head.

“I don’t think Germaine likes me.” Laurel keeps her voice low enough that no one but Luke can hear her.

“No,” Luke whispers back. “She doesn’t.” Then, louder, he says “I love you, sis. You know I’m always on your side.”

“Luke.” Laurel’s voice is sharp, and then softens. “Thanks. I love you too. See you Monday.” Almost as soon as the door is closed behind them, Laurel tucks herself against Gareth’s chest. “We are _never_ having people over again.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad. Or, at least, once we got Luke on board.”

“No, but Germaine hates me-“ Laurel feels Gareth’s body shift as he shrugs in acquiesce. “And it’s just a lot of pressure, having people in your house and everything. Next time, let’s meet at Olive Garden.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. But, we just told your brother we were dating and the world didn’t end. Maybe we could start telling others?”

“Not tonight, Gareth. God, not tonight. I just want to put sweatpants on and watch Netflix until we fall asleep on the couch.”

So they do. And if Laurel wakes up Saturday morning with a Facebook notification asking her to confirm that she’s “in a relationship with Gareth Ritter”, well, maybe she clicks “yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe if I get enough kudos and comments, CBS will pick Braindead back up. Probably not, but I can dream.


End file.
